If I always had it my way
by In Love With Insanity
Summary: The opera ghost gets all he wants by blackmailing. The vicomte de Chagny gets all he wants by his pretty face. When they meet, frictions over Box 5 ensure. Slash ahead. Disclaimers inside.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hi. This is my first story to publish here. It's also my submission for Phantastic Homos's contest (tumblr post/102818432831/ happy-one-year-anniversary-to). I must admit I don't really mind if I lose (I know I'm not that good of a writer), I just wanna write for the fun of it. So yeah. The theme of the contest is "firsts", so here it is. A story about Erik and Raoul's firsts... I suppose for now I'll just do a multichapter recollection of their firsts everthing so I can meet the dadline... I'll fill in the gaps later._

**WARNING****: Slash (male/male) relationship. Possible mpreg. Crosddressing. Fluff. Smut. Drama**.

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTO. I wish I did. Then I would kill Christine Daaè and have Erik and Raoul be together. POTO belongs to Gaston Leroux, and the vesions I base this fic on belong to Andrew Loyd Webber and Susan Kay.**

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><p>It was his opera house, ever since Antoinette Giry had brought him there years ago. His artistic domain, if you wish. He had seen a couple of owners come and go, and they sponsored the opera, yes, but it was still his. If something happened and he didn't like it, blackmailing the current owner would usually make it not happen again. That had sadly not been the case with madame Carlotta Guidiccelli, the leading soprano for five seasons, whom he was not particularly fond of. But he supposed the Italian diva was better than the chorus girls, who, as pretty as they were, had no voice, let alone talent.<p>

All but one. Christine Daaè, his pupil of months. She was naïve, young and had a beautiful voice like an angel. But she was perhaps too naïve and desperate for love and approval, being an orphan. He too, was a little desperate for… well… he had given up on the idea of someone loving him long ago, but maybe kind words. His self-esteem may not have been the healthiest, but even then he knew it was pretty stupid to be treated badly only for a birth defect. That of course was not something society thought was true and there was nothing he could do about it, so it was mostly a lost case. Sure, he may have encountered a couple people who thought like him, a good example was Madame Giry and his lifelong friend the daroga, but other than that, luck was usually not on his side when making acquaintances.

But of course, he'd lived all 35 years of his miserable life putting up with it and he was used to either his repulsive face, his repulsive luck, or the repulsive people he'd had to meet along the way. Be it the gypsies, the khanum, his mother… and in a certain way, the corps de ballet with their (usually) made up stories about him. Yes, his guilty pleasure was scaring the pubescent girls anyway, but that was another story.

When he knew the Opera Populairè was changing owners again, he felt… uneasy. Not because he couldn't manipulate the new owner(s) as he wished, of course. It was a rather unexpected situation, especially because he thought the next time the opera changed owners he could make everything in his power to make Carlotta leave and have Christine take her place, but the teenage chorus girl wasn't ready yet! Her voice had come a long way and she sang… in a decent manner, but there was still so much more to work on before he could let his pupil go on to become a prima Donna. And besides, Christine was an immature teenager, who'd fall in love with a pretty face and a full wallet… as expected from any 17 year old girl. She was definitely, in no way, ready to take Carlotta's place. But if he had to listen to Carlotta sing one more note, his eardrums would probably burst, and so help him…

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><p>Yes, Carlotta had to go. Like, a couple seasons ago, actually. His mind was set as he watched the rehearsal for Hannibal from his box, Box Five, which he had managed to keep empty for his use until now and was planning to keep that way in the future. He had noticed how Carlotta's assistants and even her mother had recurred to stuffing their ears with cotton to muffle the sound of her voice, and while he thought it was a little too much at first, he thought it was an amazing idea now. He wished he could do the same, but if he did, he wouldn't be able to hear Christine's voice during the rehearsals and he had to judge her constantly.<p>

Just as Carlotta's voice had begun figuratively drilling a hole in his head, the rehearsal was thankfully stopped as monsieur Lefevre entered the stage with a couple of old men who, even from a distance, looked like ordinary commoners who he'd probably catalogue as two gross fiftysomething lustful pedophiles, judging by the way they looked at the young ballerinas. Disgusting, he thought as he furrowed his brows. Imagine his surprise as he heard those god—awful words. "This two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populairè."

There was no way in hell he'd let a couple pigs like them run his opera. No. Absolutely not. First impressions count, and the one he'd gotten from them was bad. Badder than bad. But really, even if they only represented an eventual entertainment for him, he was not willing to let those disgusting old geezers prey on the corps de ballet. Those girls were too… let's say "special", for a lack of a better word, and would probably sleep with them for money. What if all the corps de ballet got pregnant?! There wouldn't be a fucking corps de ballet anymore! His mind raced to all of the worse scenarios possible as his nails dug into the leather of his chair. But then his attention was drawn to the stage once more as a twentysomething blonde man entered the scene. He soon learned his name was Raoul de Chagny and he was the new patron, who was also a vicomte. He didn't look as bad as the new managers, to say the least. In fact, he looked too… innocent. Like Christine. Too young and naïve to be the patron of the opera perhaps. He was sure he wouldn't be an obstacle. He'd probably be easier to manipulate than Firmin and Andrè, those two pigs of new managers they'd gotten.

And as soon as he thought they rehearsal would be canceled to celebrate the new owners, Carlotta started singing again. Why, why, why, why? He thought bitterly after knowing Andrè was a fan of hers. His luck… he hated it. He couldn't take it any longer, her singing. Her god-forsaken off tone singing. He sighed heavily as he exited the box and headed backstage to do something about Carlotta once and for all. Maybe dropping the scenery on her was too much, but at least she shut up. Christine would get a chance to be the leading soprano and he could have Antoinette Giry inform the new managers he acknowledged their presence and expected his salary anytime soon. Not like he actually cared about it anymore, he had made quite a fortune from all those years of blackmailing the owners. But striking fear into the owners' minds was quite a good idea for now.

He'd probably do the same with the young vicomte later tonight, after the opera. For now, he could put his mind relatively at ease as he heard Christine rehearse for her role as Elisa. She too was a little off tone, but now as much as Carlotta, and besides, his young pupil didn't play Carlotta's act of parading around the stage as a peacock so the audience noticed her costumes and whatnot instead of her voice. Which was a huge milestone in her becoming a full pledged prima donna.

Everything was coming along nicely with his perfectly engineered plan. Of course, he was the Phantom of the Opera. Everything happened just as he intended it to. Always…

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><p><strong>Reviews are welcome and appreciated.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING****: Slash (male/male) relationship. Possible mpreg. Crosddressing. Fluff. Smut. Drama**.

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTO. I wish I did. Then I would kill Christine Daaè and have Erik and Raoul be together. POTO belongs to Gaston Leroux, and the vesions I base this fic on belong to Andrew Loyd Webber and Susan Kay.**

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><p>As much as the Phantom had thought about introducing himself to the new patron that night, he sure as hell wasn't expecting this… rudeness. He was a vicomte for god's sake, he surely knew better than to invade other people's properties. Like <span>his<span> box.

And yet, just before the opera started, as the Phantom was about to enter his box, he found the blonde teenager (he didn't know his age, but judging by his factions, he could tell Raoul couldn't possibly be older than Christine. That is, 17. At most) sitting merrily in his box, on his chair. And he was outraged. How could he?!

And as much as he wished to storm inside and kick the young vicomte out of his box, something stopped him from doing that. Maybe the fact that the blonde looked too defenseless and harmless. Maybe he didn't know about him yet. He had to be fair with the boy, he had just come to the opera earlier that day. He hadn't had the chance of speaking to the corps de ballet yet. If he had then he'd known of the infamous Opera Ghost by now. Yes, and he'd stayed away from his box. That had to be it.

The thought surprised him. Why was he being so considerate of a snobby teenager? If it had been someone else, maybe some other snobby vicomte and not this one, he'd done anything to scare them out of their silk petticoats. But now he was frozen in place because he was sure if he moved even a little Raoul would notice him and run away. Probably.

Something similar had happened once when he was but a young boy in the woods. But that time it had been a beautiful fawn the one creature he didn't want to scare away, not a snobby, girl-faced vicomte he hadn't even formally met yet.

He thought about leaving, after all, he could watch the opera from his privileged seat back stage like he'd done many times before but then his mind went back to its usual self. Why would he let the vicomte keep HIS box?! Just as he was about to go and kick him out like he'd initially thought, the new managers came in. And he went back to his hiding place. Because he'd still thought maybe he'd kick Raoul out nicely… and he couldn't if those two pigs were there. So he ran away, back to the tunnels that lead to the cellar. He suddenly wasn't that excited about the opera. And besides he could still listen to Christine while he was in the tunnels. If she did well he'd let her finally meet him.

After the opera ended and Christine was thoroughly congratulated for her impeccable performance (he also took credit for himself, he was her teacher after all) he waited for her in her dressing room, behind her mirror. He thought maybe getting to meet him would be a good reinforcement for her to continue her lessons. Or not. He wasn't sure anymore.

And just as Christine was getting out of her costume, that snobby teenage vicomte entered her room like it was nothing. And he learned they were childhood friends. Also, he learned that Christine thought he was the ghost of her father. And then he invited her for dinner. It really didn't make him that mad, Christine could do as she pleased with her free time, and besides he wasn't that sure he wanted her to meet him anyway, but he felt strangely… jealous. Not because he didn't get to congratulate Christine, but because she got to speak to the vicomte and he didn't. It wasn't fair. It was his opera house and he had to speak to the new patron. Never mind Firmin and Andrè, they repulsed him, but Raoul didn't. Yet.

So naturally when the blonde left, he let jealously get the best of him and prohibited Christine from going out with him. Obviously. Smart move.

Instead he had her follow him to his home under the opera. He had to improvise, he hadn't thought Raoul would have the guts to ask her out. He didn't even know they knew each other. And perhaps Christine got the wrong idea as they crossed the undergrown lake. He wasn't particularly interested in her in a romantic way. Only as a teacher and to a certain degree as a father figure. Oh well. He'd surely have to talk about that with her. He didn't want her thinking he was teaching her because he liked her, no. It was because she had a nice voice, and honestly, she was his second option. The first one was Meg Giry, but she was terrified of him. What a Shame. She was prettier, and also, the idea of teaching a mezzo and not a soprano was thrilling. Not because it was any different, but because he'd never seen a mezzo prima donna before. All sopranos. And he knew how sopranos usually ended. Like Carlotta. Annoying brats.

He swore to himself he didn't want Christine to faint, she just did. For the second time that day he asked himself "why?". All he did was tell her he wanted her to sing for him and then she just fainted. He knew his music was better than good, but was it really that exciting? He was still debating if it had really been because he said that, or the fact he had little wax dollies of pretty much everyone who had ever worked in the opera house. Really, he just made them out of boredom, but he had to admit maybe it was a little creepy.

And so he stood before the unconscious body of Christine on his bed. It was a rather uncomfortable situation to be in. He didn't know if he should take her back to her dressing room, and besides he was almost sure at least the new managers would be looking for her by now. Also, the vicomte. And then he thought maybe he could use Christine as a bait to get to speak to him. He would never hurt her, of course… if the girl wasn't such a hormonal teenager, he could talk to her without her either thinking he wanted her or fainting. He sighed heavily as he exited his room. Maybe not everything happened like he intended it to. At least not always.

But on second thought, yeah, maybe it did. He'd go back to Christine's dressing room and hopefully the vicomte would be there, and then he'd get to talk to him about certain box which should remain empty because, for god's sake, it was HIS.

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><p><strong>Reviews are welcome and appreciated.<strong>


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